


Here You Are

by scratchedandinked



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: "accidental" deadnaming, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, No explicit transphobia or body dysphoria, Trans Male Character, Trans Oswald Cobblepot, a lil hot, a lil sweet, lil power dynamics, turned makeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 19:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14503587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratchedandinked/pseuds/scratchedandinked
Summary: Oswald is more than comfortable being the most powerful man in Gotham. He carved his place in that goddamn town and he'll be dead and floating off that pier again before anyone challenges him-- or looks too long at Ed.He has the means to destroy those who attempt to drag him down, but sometimes the emotional ache highlights the lifelong ones coursing through his body. Oswald needs to be reminded he is powerful and just who he controls.





	Here You Are

**Author's Note:**

> This story does not revolve completely around any trans-oriented thoughts about body dysphoria or transition. It has a flash moment of deadnaming, but I don't dive too deep into it if that is something that could be hard to read.  
> I wrote Oswald comfortable with his transition and over all self, but experiencing the world's shittiest dinner party.

“You are going to cut quite the fine figure at the Founders’ dinner tonight.” Ed smoothed the shoulders of Oswald’s suit in long sweeping strokes.

Oswald sighed and addressed his reflection before turning to Ed. “You think?”

“I don’t make it a habit of lying, Oswald.” Ed said, offering a gentle smile. “You look very handsome; professional and presentable.”

“Thank you.” Oswald tugged on the bottom of his vest. The pressure of the tight piece of clothing and his binder did not line up directly over his chest. “Are you sure you don’t mind going?”

“Again. Lying is not a habit of mine-- at least not to you. You know this.” Ed replied. “Frankly, I think this evening will be fun. A first outing of sorts.”

“We go to everything together.” Oswald said, rolling his eyes as he felt for his cufflinks. “This dinner will be nothing but stiffness and forced niceties while plotting whose power can be absorbed by whom.”

“Might I remind you-- the wine, Oswald.” Ed said, walking over to Oswald’s desk. He returned with two of the many tie options they had considered. “Free liquor is often your favorite part.”

“This is true.” Oswald laughed and placed a hand over his chest, feeling his pressed shirt shift against the taut nylon. “The Founders’ have an excellent wine cellar.”

With a future of possible heavy wine tasting--  _ drinking _ \-- in mind, Oswald began considered his tie choices. Both were dark, but the one hanging over his right shoulder, the one being slowly twisted in Ed’s thin fingers, was his favorite. The deep plum brought out his crisp clean shirt behind his dark vest and suit jacket. The corners of his collar would bracket his neck while the tie elongated and flattened his chest. The color could also cover up any wine droplets, should there be any.

“I know you favor this one.” Oswald said, reaching for the plum tie.

“Guilty.” Ed grinned, holding his hands up and retracting the other tie.

“Keep your hands to yourself though.” Oswald looped the tie around his neck, beginning to knot it deliberately.

Ed had a sinful habit of pulling on Oswald’s tie to get his attention. He knew Oswald would immediately seize Ed’s own tie and haul him across the floor to their bedroom-- or the nearest dark corner.

“In my pockets the entire evening.” Ed replied. He crossed his arms and leaned against Oswald’s desk.

“Mr. Nygma,” Oswald tisked. “Get dressed. The driver is coming in the hour.”

“As you wish, sir.” Ed pushed off the desk and straightened up beside Oswald’s mirror. “Be down shortly.” He left the room, brushing past Oswald’s arm as he did. His hand dragged over Oswald’s thigh briefly. Oswald’s fingers curled around his silk tie and could suddenly feel the seconds of the car ride, alone with Ed, weigh heavy on his mind.

Oswald would have to downscale how much drinking he’d do that evening. Ed was going to test him-- in the backseat, under the table, behind his back. _ That _ was why they always went places together. It was far more exciting than Oswald straining to keep his eyes open at such events. But it could also be the reason to consider going separately. But one more night wasn’t going to harm anyone’s career.

Once his tie was neat and tight, Oswald tugged on his vest again before leaving his reflection. He looked presentable and intelligent; the mayor he felt he was. He walked to the door and waited for Ed, wrists crossed behind his back. Ed was a fast dresser-- and undresser for that matter-- and didn’t need Oswald poking and pestering him. He’d be punctual.

In his wait, Oswald tried stretching his arms. His shoulders cracked after hunching forward all morning. With his binder, his posture sagged, and it was doing more harm for his health than all the good a flat chest did for his confidence.

Ed came down the stairs quickly, his feet treading the steps and landing in front of Oswald before he finished buttoning his suit jacket. The jacket was a muted charcoal, a shade lighter than Oswald’s own jacket, and his tie appeared to also be a complementary dark gray until it caught the light of the afternoon sun.

“You never wear purple ties.” Oswald said, reaching up to straighten the knot. Ed lifted his chin and let Oswald realign his tie, despite there being very little to do except relish in the delicate intimacy.

“I figured there is no better way to identify a pair than by color.” Ed replied, looking up at the ceiling.

“Isn’t green a complementary color to purple?”

“Common misconception. It’s actually yellow.” Ed said. He lowered his head as Oswald finished his tie and smoothed his lapels. “And I do not look my best in yellow. By any means.”

“Purple it is then.” Oswald smiled, pressing his lips together and admiring, once more, Ed’s extensive consideration to their evening. “You look handsome.”

“Thank you.” Ed bowed to show gratitude, but Oswald was able to catch the flash of Ed’s teeth as he grin to himself. “Shall we get going?”

“Yes, yes! We can’t be late again.” Oswald nodded. Ed reached towards the umbrella stand and grabbed Oswald’s formal, beak-headed cane and handed it to him before grabbing both of their coats.

The sun had fallen lower in the sky, the entire front estate glowing golden. The driver was already waiting for them, preparing to open the door. Ed reached the car first, dismissing the driver with a thankful nod. He motioned for Oswald to get in first, holding a hand out and letting him use it as balance.

“I’m beginning to think you enjoy being simple service help.” Oswald noted. “Helping me dress, my cane, the door… Ed, I’m beginning to worry for your brain.”

“I’m helping the mayor into the backseat of a car.” Ed replied flatly, climbing in beside him. “I hope none of your house staff does this regularly.” He lifted an eyebrow and slid a hand over Oswald’s thigh. The driver’s eyes were looking at Ed’s face, possibly Oswald’s for confirmation of location, but didn’t care to notice Ed’s hand gently stroking the inside of Oswald’s thigh.

The driver and Ed exchanged directions before he leaned back in his seat. Once beside Oswald again, he removed his hand from his thigh. He placed both hands in his pockets and quietly whistled to himself. Oswald made sure to use every mirror in the car to make sure Ed saw his tense glare. Ed bit his lip to keep from laughing, only driving Oswald further up the wall and his toes curling tighter in his shoes.

“Fucking bastard.” Oswald muttered, crossing his legs.

“That  _ is _ the goal.” Ed replied with a wink. “But first, I suppose we should arrive professional and well-dressed.”

“I’m going to choke you to death with your own  _ fucking _ tie.” Oswald hissed, chest still tight and heart trying to come down.

Ed lifted his eyebrows and smirked. “You promise?”

* * *

“Mr. Mayor! And… And…  Edwin?”

“Edward. Nygma.” Oswald smiled, patting Ed on the arm and gesturing for him to shake hands with the woman before them. Her family was responsible for beginning the petition to get railroads through Gotham and now had more money than God from the steel industry in town. Her economic models were topics of wonder, but her memory seemed to be terrible.

“Edward! Of course! Mr. Nygma, I’m so sorry.” She held her hand out to him and shook it firmly. The wine glass in her other hand sloshed and a droplet landed on the carpet between her heels.

“No matter, please.”

“Ed. It’s a pleasure to see you and the mayor again.”

“Marsha, it’s Oswald.” He touched her shoulder gently. “We’ve been to enough of these dinners, we can be on first names.”

“Well,  _ Oswald _ , you look dashing tonight. So handsome I could just eat you  _ right _ up.” She laughed warmly, her eyes twinkling and hand swinging out. More wine dribbled onto the carpet and Oswald really needed to figure out where the supply was. So far, they’d only run into the waitstaff carrying flutes of champagne.

“Eat you up?” Ed echoed as Marsha became distracted by the housestaff attempting to get her a cloth napkin for the droplets running down her arm. “Well well, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Please, Ed.” Oswald said through a clenched smile. “Not when I am surrounded by billionaires.”

“I wasn’t going to do it  _ here _ .” Ed said with a scoff. He stepped away without another word to satiate Oswald’s sparked heat. He stopped a waitstaff with a tray of champagne and grabbed the fullest flute. He took his first sip as another founder approached him. His eyes dragged over Oswald before acknowledging the new face.

Realistically, the chances of anyone in the room knowing who Ed actually was were very slim. Sure, they had seen him with Oswald before in papers and on the news, but his name would not appear in any of their memories. He did belong there though. Ed’s posture commanded the room with undeniable confidence. Also in the realm of possibility was that at least a few of the people there knew that Ed wasn’t accompanying Oswald on any terms of business. The lines were undefined on purpose, but Oswald appreciated that Ed fit in regardless. He was networking with his own charisma.

Oswald rolled his shoulders and cracked his back again.

“He’s beautiful.” An older gentleman stood beside Oswald suddenly, two wine glasses in hand. He handed one to Oswald but his eyes were fixed on Ed. “Absolutely striking.”

“He is dressed handsomely this evening.” Oswald agreed. He took a long sip from the glass, the wine tart and drying Oswald’s mouth further. “Have you met Mr. Nygma?”

“Are you offering him?”

“I’ll introduce you. He’s my chief of staff.” Oswald said.

“How’d you swing that?” He laughed. It rattled in his chest, like he was sick beyond a cure. “Mustn’t get much work done.”

“Pardon?”

“Having that around your office. I’d stop every meeting to get those long legs hanging over my lap.” He motioned towards Ed with his wine glass. None spilled. “Fucking that whenever you want. Now  _ that _ ’s why you become mayor.”

“That’s not the reason I became mayor.” Oswald said slowly, unsure if he was being accused or merely misread. “Ed is brilliant. He’s a great addition to my staff. He’s my right hand in the--”

“I’m sure.”

Oswald sighed and placed his hand against his chest. He smoothed his tie and made sure his suit was still in order. He cleared his throat before taking another sip of wine, nearly finishing the glass in two gulps. The old man’s expression perked up and Oswald knew Ed was walking towards them; he had heard Oswald’s cough.

“Oswald, I believe dinner is about to be served. Is it wise to be downing a whole glass beforehand?” He chastised Oswald mockingly, reaching over and taking the rim of his glass with the tips of his fingers. “Let’s not be sloppy house guests. Sir.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Oswald muttered, clenching his jaw. “Mr. Nygma.” The stranger was still taking in Ed like his hands rested in his eyes.

“Maybe we can get you a glass of water.” Ed said, handing the empty glass to the man. “Come with me. To the kitchen.”

“Excuse us. Just be a moment.” Oswald smiled at the man, hoping he wasn’t revealing anything with his quick nod and rushed walking. Ed took long, uneven strides when he was trying to sneak around.

Oswald could see Ed heading for the back bathroom, the white door closing over as he stepped inside. It didn’t click closed and Oswald could slip inside without a single--

“Mr. Cobblepot! So glad I finally caught you!”  _ Why  _ did he insist on putting his photo on every inch of the city?

Oswald stopped and turned to yet another stranger pleased to meet his acquaintance. It was a beautiful privilege to be worshipped at first glance, but there were better ways of being praised Oswald was attempting to try.

“It’s a pleasure.” Oswald stuck out his hand, officially engaging the distraction. Behind him, he heard the door click closed. He could only imagine what Ed was doing; maybe swaying and rocking, one hand bracing him on the wall while the other ran up and down his--

“This must be Mr. Nygma!” The woman grinned, turning to the man stepping up behind Oswald. “You helped the mayor run an incredible campaign.”

“Thank you.” Ed bowed his head and took her hand. “But I had such a great candidate to work with; it wasn’t all that difficult.”

“Smart and humble.” She laughed heartily, reaching out to squeeze Ed’s arm. Oswald lifted an eyebrow while watching Ed harmlessly touch her arm in return. “Hold onto him, Mr. Mayor, or I might snag him for my upcoming campaign for senate seat.”

“Oh I will.” Oswald nodded, placing a hand on Ed’s back. The touch wasn’t as professional as the conversation warranted, but Oswald let his hand linger between Ed’s shoulder blades before falling down to his lower back. “He’s a great addition to the Mayor’s office.”

“Mr. Nygma, I’d love to pick your brain over dinner.” She continued. “Your ideas are fascinating.”

“I’d be delighted.” Ed nodded. “And it’s nearly time for us to sit, we’ll just freshen up and be right there, Miss…”

“Yanez.”

“Of course. Be right with you.” Ed said. He placed a hand on Oswald’s back and included him in his exit. Oswald stepped back and jabbed at Ed’s foot with his cane. “What?”

“Why didn’t you stay in the bathroom?” Oswald asked. “You come out just to get the praise?”

“People believe in you too, you know, Oswald.”

“She doesn’t care about me. She’s attracted to  _ you _ .” Oswald countered, stepping into the bathroom and standing in front of the sink. “That much was obvious.”

“She’s impressed by our campaign. Which was a success because  _ you  _ are a great mayor.” Ed said. Oswald remained unconvinced and adjusted his tie and vest restlessly. He sighed and felt his ribs groan under the binder, vest, and jacket. “Look,” Ed stepped up and looked at Oswald through the mirror. “I came with you, didn’t I?”

“You’re my chief of staff.”

“And I very easily could have let that woman flirt with me. I came with you.” Ed rested his hands on Oswald’s shoulders. “I belong to you.”

Oswald let the words be true. He didn’t argue with Ed or even silently remind himself how little he had in comparison to Ed. Truly, Ed couldn’t have been there without Oswald. Couldn’t really have worked half of that room if it wasn’t for him. Ed owed Oswald, and Oswald owned Ed. Just enough to get Oswald’s mind off the constant chattering outside and the aching pain in his sides.

“I wish this dinner was over. The people here are insufferable.” Oswald grumbled, tightening his lips. “I have more pull in this city than everyone put together.”

“While this is true,” Ed nodded. He slid his hands down to Oswald’s back, patting his ribs. “On a related note: have you stretched lately?”

“Why?” Oswald hadn’t. He tried not to make a spectacle of himself as he stretched his arms and took deep breaths every couple hours. It always made him look like he was either exhausted or in a strange huff to rooms full of clueless bystanders.

There was some public knowledge, but no one ever knew Oswald before he was  _ Oswald _ . No one thought it important to bring up, thankfully. There was a general ignorance to how exactly binders worked that the assumption would never occur to them. Instead, Oswald would just look like he was  _ really _ sore after standing in the same place for three hours.

“It’s not an insult, Oswald. I just know you get irritable when you’re uncomfortable.”

“I appreciate the concern but I’m fine.” He snipped. “Let’s just get back to the dinner.”

He opened and stepped out of the door, leaving Ed in the mirror’s reflection alone. He’d have better luck with it than Oswald was at the moment. So many eyes on Oswald was making his own hyper-focused and critical on every misplaced bump and wrinkle.

Reentering the crowd was like diving underwater while gasping for breath.

* * *

The table conversation had fractured by dessert and everyone was talking in smaller groups of three and four. While small conversation left little places to hide, the topics could be less impressive and more catty.

“So, Mr. Nygma-- is it alright if I call you Ed? Ed, what were you thinking when you saved the mayor’s life that night in the club--”

“I was doing my job.” Ed said, slowly swallowing his bite of dessert.

Ed hated cheesecake, but was using each suffering bite as a way to delay his answers. On his left, Oswald was appieteiteless and sipping his espresso without comment to the conversations around him. Marsha was across from him and still flamboyantly discussing economics, and the strange man from before was luckily at the far end of the table, silent and watching. His ownership of Ed even with a glance was enough to get Oswald out of his seat. But he stayed and he sat, trusting Yanez less.

“Your job is helping him win office-- not getting choked.”

“You’d be surprised.” Ed said, clearing his throat. “It’s a job I’d do again in a heartbeat.”

“Well, it’s that a beautiful friendship.” Yanez said.

“You live with me.” Oswald cut in under his breath, place his cup down and signalling to get another fill. “Friendship is a very loose term, I suppose.”

“We’d love to have you help out in my campaign for senate.” She handed Ed a business card with a smile that overreached networking.

“Thank you. I’m flattered, but I think I’m going to be busy with Oswald’s office in Gotham.”

“Oh, come on, I’m sure ol’ Izzie can take care of it!”

The clatter of forks rattled the dining room but no one stopped talking, hoping to brush the word along into forgotten past. Oswald’s body was trembling, his entire chest burning but by new means. The entire room moved on without him and Oswald was left spinning in the last few seconds.

“I-I’m sorry. Who?” Ed asked. He was hoping to correct the woman, but Oswald knew it was going to gouge a deeper wound. He slapped Ed’s leg under the table. He reached for his full cup again and failed to control how rapidly he was downing it. The waitstaff remained by his side, ready with another shot. “Oswald?”

“Isn’t that what I--” The woman cleared her throat. As if that was the problem. “Os. Ossie. Oswald. Os. That’s what I said. Ossie.”

“Right.” Ed accepted the lie; Oswald was digging his fingernails into his thigh and was close to drawing blood. “Oswald is capable of many things, but doing the job of an entire staff might not be one of them.”

“Well, Iz--  _ Os _ does seem to have quite the skillset. I think you might be wrong about him--”

“I’m not taking a position with you.” Ed said sharply. “Now please, there are more people at this table. And I will not be one of them. Excuse me.” He pushed his chair back and stood from the table. He gently placed his napkin on the table in order to dismantle the expectation of a storm-out, but didn’t attempt to keep his clenched jaw or pursed lips hidden.

Ed’s absence left Oswald more exposed to Yanez. Ed’s seat was a faulty barrier. There was no way to hide the involuntary shame spreading over Yanez’s face as she looked at Oswald. She smiled, her cheeks lifting, but her eyes wide and trying to take in new topics of conversation. She didn’t want to face the truth that despite having never been introduced to Oswald by his birth name, she used it  _ twice _ . Used it in a public space to his chief of staff, his  _ Edward _ , and to the most powerful in Gotham. He didn’t want to accuse anyone or cause a scene, but Oswald was very eager to leave the dinner as quickly as possible.

“Oswald, do you plan on running for reelection?” Of course, business talk wasn’t nearly over yet. “It’s nearly time for considerations.”

“It is. It is.” Oswald nodded. “I fully intend on continuing my contributions to Gotham. It’s been a wonderful term so far.”

“Despite nearly being killed. On multiple occasions.” Marsha added with a laugh, trying to add levity. Oswald found it hard to laugh. “It’s part of the deal, am I right?”

“Writing a will is all part of the swearing in ceremony.” Yanez laughed, trying to find comradery through political ties. Oswald tightened his lips and tried to smile. He placed his arm around the back of Ed’s chair and gripped his cane in his hand. It tapped slowly against the chair side, a quiet  _ tink _ of the seconds Oswald wished he could get back.

“Public office is not for the soft hearted, I will admit.” Oswald said. “If it’s not the town voting down your bill, it’s someone trying to kill you… Give and take I suppose.” Everyone laughed; The room was either pitying Oswald or completely in love with him.

“I think what you’ve been doing to honor your mother is incredible.” Marsha grinned, placing a hand on her chest. “She was such a wonderful woman.”

“She was.”

“Your speeches about her always bring me to tears.” Yanez added, reaching over and grabbing Oswald’s hand.

“My mother,” Oswald began, twisting his hand and sliding it out of her scaley grip. “Was the first person to call me Oswald, and the last person to ever call me by…  _ other _ things. And you’ve taken that. Don’t you dare cry over the memory of a woman you just helped step on.”

Oswald pushed his chair back and bought his cane back against the floor with a sharp thud. There was enough shock that he had time to stand and readjust his suit before he’d have to worry about anyone beginning to speak again. Ed would be back soon from talking his curled fists down from shattering the bathroom mirror. They were leaving.

“It’s been a pleasure dining with some of you this evening.” Oswald bowed his head. “I look forward to next year. Thank you and good night.”

A string of forcefully crisp goodbyes followed Oswald out of the dining room. The minute he stepped into the living space, wine stains leading him to the foyer, the voices were hushed again and respect lost. The foyer was empty and the bathroom door at the end of the hallway completely open.

“Mr. Nygma?” Oswald called, hoping his voice would carry to the dining room and startle their gossip. “Mr. Nygma, are you ready to leave?” He walked closer to the door, cane clacking against the floor. They’d be reminded of Oswald until he finally walked out of the house.

“Sir?” Ed opened the front door. He was on the porch with Oswald’s coat in hand and his own fastened tightly. He placed a phone into his jacket pocket. “I’ve called the driver up to the front.”

“Thank you, Ed.” Oswald said. He stepped out onto the porch and let Ed swing the door shut behind him. The glass wobbled in the wooden door frame and Oswald’s cane still hit spectacularly against the stone steps. “I think I’ve had quite enough ancient Gotham history for one night.”

“Agreed, sir.” Ed said.

The driver pulled up shortly after Oswald buttoned his coat. He asked no questions to their early departure and simply nodded to Ed’s new orders to return home. The driver looked back at them in the mirror repeatedly, his eyes finding Oswald’s face more often than the lights trailing them. The old name wore heavily on Oswald, his eyes falling and body wanting to collapse around its original form.

In the darkness, Ed placed his hand on Oswald’s leg. It was quiet and still, a man sure of Oswald’s resilience. It was the perfect shadow to hide under while Oswald wiped his cheeks. The hot tears initially spilled for his mother reemerging to try and correct the mistake done that night.

“Oswald?” Ed said, echoing Oswald’s own memory.

“Yes.”

“Thank you for letting me join you.”

“Of course, Mr. Nygma. You’re my right-hand.” Ed’s own squeezed Oswald’s leg gently.

* * *

Oswald left the car before it fully came to a stop. Before a single question could be asked by passing house staff, Oswald trudged up the stairs, announcing his retirement for the night. Their bedroom was still decorated with remnants of Ed’s dressing that morning. Oswald pushed a loose tie onto the floor and slumped down onto the bed.

His shoulders hunched forward and cracked; it had easily been over eight hours with his binder on. Everything was sore and pulsing, all the way down to Oswald’s lower back. Ed sat beside him slowly, reaching down to take off his own shoes. Oswald had his eyes closed and neck craning to crack. He didn’t argue when Ed began untying his shoes. Oswald folded his stocking feet up on the bed and leaned back, a clicking sound following his spine all the way down.

“Ow.”

“That wasn’t good.”

“Thank you for the medical diagnosis, Edward.” Oswald sighed, hands pushing against his hips. “I was under the impression having bubble wrap between the columns of my spine was  _ healthy _ .”

“Alright. Let’s get this off of you.” Ed sighed.

He began feeding Oswald’s buttons through the shirt and peeling back the three layers squeezing him. Ed eased Oswald up off his back by each shoulder and slid his jacket, vest, and shirt off his body. Oswald was able to take a deep breath with only his binder pushing down on his lungs.

“Fuck, that’s good.” Oswald mumbled, placing his hands along his sides. He folded the edges of his binder up and slipped his hands under each side slowly. “Oh  _ fuck _ .” It was nearly obscene, but the release of constant, dull pressure around Oswald’s entire torso was unspeakably blissful. It was suddenly like his lungs could expand to hold entire rooms of air, swelling to near explosion and still having another gasp in them.

“That’s typically a good reaction.” Ed took the binder from Oswald’s lax grip and moved his arms up over his head, continuing a stretch while Oswald was distracted by his own deep breaths.

With his arms reaching up towards the pillows and his feet tucked under his legs, Oswald watched Ed clean up his shed clothes and shoes. He tidied up before removing his own suit. The display was muted, Ed facing the wall and closet doors as he slipped off his jacket and dress shirt.

Despite always sleeping shirtless, he returned to bed pulling a simple white shirt over his head.

“Get on your stomach.” Ed said, nudging Oswald with his knee as he climbed on bed. 

“Excuse me?” Oswald said, lifting an eyebrow.

“This is not for me.” Ed said. “Do it.”

Oswald huffed and slowly tipped himself over, folding his arms under his head. He felt the bed by his waist dip and Ed’s hands gently rest on his back. The chill of his hands tensed Oswald’s skin, but the warmth of Ed’s voice relaxed him. His fingers began pressing against the back of Oswald’s ribs, gently pushing down to his lower back before starting again and pushing his shoulders apart. Their crack was unceremoniously loud and unremarkably satisfying.

“Do that again.” Oswald said. The tender pain radiating across his body was a intimate pain he never truly shared with anyone else-- how could he? Ed wasn’t ignorant to it but his hands had never felt so familiar, finding the ripples of soreness under Oswald’s skin like he was soothing his own aches. The suffocation of that night’s dinner was tangible and Oswald wanted nothing more than to feel it drip from his spine.

“Do what again?” Ed asked. He leaned over, speaking softly but with a firm hand. “Tell me, Oswald.”

“ _ That _ .” It was a rush, a flash of light behind Oswald’s open eyes. It was like a shock to an already buzzing system. It was his name and Oswald could feel it in every trace of Ed’s fingers. “S-Say that again.”

“Tell me.”

“No. No. Say it again.” Oswald’s entire body felt rigid, moments from breaking down and breaking free.

“Oswald.” Ed said. His hands dragged over Oswald’s shoulders and he could feel him hovering over his back. Ed’s nose pressed against Oswald’s hair, his lips ghosting his ear. “Oswald, look at you.”

“No, please. Don’t.” Oswald began to regret the request for validation. Ed could take Oswald and break him in a way the entire dining room had already done. One push and every rib would crack and reveal the curdled relief resting inside. “Ed.”

“Look at you, Oswald.” Ed repeated. He kissed Oswald’s temple slowly, his lips sticking to his skin slick from the exhausted heat. “So handsome for me.”

“For you?” Oswald turned to meet Ed’s face more directly. “I thought  _ you  _ belonged to  _ me _ .”

“And I am privileged to see you this way, Oswald.” Ed’s hands continued to push down into his shoulders and spine, but Oswald could feel his nails dragging along his flesh. “You commanded that  _ entire _ dinner. Yet here you are--”

“Still able to kill you if you don’t--” Oswald began pushing up from the bed.

“Here you are, Oswald, able to control every last room of the evening.” Ed said. “And every. last. person.”

“You hate it when people think I’m the strategy of this campaign.” Oswald laughed, his skin twitching with Ed’s slow scratching. “But you love that it gives me absolute power.”

“You could have poisoned that entire room with your own smile.”

“I’d prefer actual murder for some of those people.” Oswald grunted, Yanez’s words crashing into Oswald and tightening his chest again. “She wanted you. She wanted you so badly she went to... to  _ such _ a low to try and tempt you. A job, a spot on capitol hill, a disgusting reminder that I’m--”

“The only man I listen to.” Ed’s one hand stayed pushing on Oswald’s tense back while another slide up along his spine, fingernails riding the bumps up to the nape of his neck. His fingers gripped at the short hairs before grasping a fistful in a white-knuckle grip. Oswald’s head was pulled back, his neck bent and each breath forced and laborious. His expression remained still, eyes keeping watch over Ed. “She was was playing the same game I was; but we won, Oswald. We get everything, she gets shame.”

“The way she wanted you-- she feels no shame.” Oswald whispered. “You have no idea about shame.”

“When I was in the bathroom, do you know what I did?” Ed asked, fingers beginning to card Oswald’s hair but grip still able to tighten back up. Oswald kept his head back. “You know what I did, Oswald?”

“No.”

“I called the loudest mouth in the  _ Gotham Gazette _ to speak on Julie Yanez’s behavior at the dinner.” Oswald tried to scoff, but the noise caught in the crick in his neck. He could only stare at Ed in silence. Both his hands massaged Oswald; one faintly on his scalp and the other digging back between his shoulders. “Her power will dissolve into the black ink printing the story and signing her resignation.”

“You called the  _ Gazette _ to do your dirty work?” Oswald sighed. “You learned her first name?”

“You want to dismantle her yourself?” Ed asked, smirking. “Well, I just took her out of the spotlight. She’s nowhere near finished. She’s all yours, Oswald.”

“All mine.”

“Just. like. me.” The fingers laced in Oswald’s hair loosened and cradled the back of his head as Ed leaned in to kiss Oswald.

With Ed’s guiding hand, Oswald slowly eased onto his side. Ed stretched out alongside him, sharing warmth and breath. Oswald’s hands reached out for Ed, fumbling with his shirt to slide his hands over his hips. The skin was warm and gave into Oswald’s grip. They moved slowly, Oswald trying to convince himself of the power already thrumming in his finger tips.

“Say it again.” Oswald asked, pressing his forehead against Ed’s. “Say my name again. I want to hear you say it.”

“Oswald. Oswald, please.” Ed cupped Oswald’s face, lips trying to find his again. “Oswald.” His lips were trembling and pink, words tumbling out of them weakly. His lips were unable to form tightly around his name; it formed elsewhere in his mouth. It came from down his throat, in the pit of his stomach. From the center of warmth pulling their bodies closer together. “Oswald, please. Kiss me.”

The name was a prayer, a last resort, the highest praise. Ed’s entire world built itself around its syllables, his mouth cradling it between slow pants and quick gasps. Oswald hadn’t considered his name being the center of anything, but rather the horrific bookend of earned respect. But this was worship. It was the recognition of Oswald by his own worldly center. Oswald had recognized it on his own long before, but hearing it through the quivering lips of his Ed reminded him his name was grace.

“You’re mine.” Oswald whispered. Ed moaned quietly, nodding his head and trying to close their lips over Oswald’s sentence.

“Oswald,” Ed breathed, thumbs pressing against Oswald’s cheeks. “I want to be no one else’s.”

“You’re mine.” Oswald repeated, taking Ed’s face with his own hands. He leaned against Oswald’s hand, love suddenly too heavy to hold.

“I am. I am.” Ed nodded, peppering Oswald’s mouth with short, forceful kisses. Their lips missed, teeth clashed, noses poked. “Oswald, I’m all yours.”

“Ed,”

“Yes, yes. Oswald, anything.” His mouth hung open, breath heaving and eyes fluttering shut. “Yes, Oswald.”

“You’re mine.” He stilled the trembling in Ed’s lips. “You’re my world.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me on tumblr (@ednygmas-twinklegs) to come chat or submit prompts!  
> xoxo


End file.
